We'll Hate What We've Lost, But We'll Love What We Find
by snixty9
Summary: Santana was always pushing, while Quinn was always pulling - it was an odd chemistry. Quinn never wanted an explanation to what was going on, not like Brittany. Quinn never asked for anything Santana couldn't handle and never asked Santana to explain what she couldn't. Though they were always tug-of-war type of friends, they understood each other's walls. (Better synopsis inside)
1. Competition with Chemistry

**A/N**: I wrote this out a long time ago and am only now finishing it and having the courage to post it up. If you are a reader of my other fics, please don't fret, I still intend on finishing both of those. I just had to post this up or else all of the writing would be for nothing and it would just collect dust or disappear.

_**Basic**_** Synopsis:** _Santana wants to run for class president to show Brittany that Santana was worth more than geeks on wheels. The only real competition was Quinn and if she could get Quinn to run with her, there would be no doubt that they would win. Quinn and Santana have been having some "summertime sleepovers" and Santana knows exactly how she's going to convince Quinn to run with her. Quick appearance by Skank!Quinn - could be longer depending on your guys' reactions/requests._

PS. There is slight Brittana in the beginning, but this a Quinntana story and I believe in happy endings... eventually. Occasional smut - maybe more when I feel like it. Let me know what you guys think R&R as you please ;)

* * *

Senior year finally arrived. It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to feel great. Santana was supposed to feel the thrill of having one foot out of Lima's door and being one step closer to freedom. But all she could do was catch glimpses of Brittany and feel her heart sink into her stomach where it proceeded to flutter consistently. Her heart ached whenever her eyes would lock with Brittany's in Glee club, Cheerios practice or anywhere else for that matter. Her whole body shook when Brittany looked at her that way. Like she was reading her and speaking their own secret language only through a gaze. Like Brittany was asking her to hold her hand or kiss her regardless of who would see or what their opinion would be. Santana was supposed to be ecstatic that she was only a year away from running away from Lima, Ohio. But all she felt was an insufferable pain that scraped at her skin, rang through her organs and burned her blood. The thought of running away from Lima without Brittany was like a dark cloud looming over her head. When it would come to haunt Santana, it always rained tragic images of Santana in a beautiful city, alone, crying because she may have gotten to _where_ she belonged, but she wasn't with _who_ she belonged with.

Brittany and Santana's relationship was still up in the air. It was unclear to Santana what Brittany wanted; it was unclear to Santana what _she_ wanted... After Junior year ended with the fatal Finchel finale for Nationals and after Santana nearly murdered Rachel, Santana just felt kind of numb. She felt like a loser. She felt scared because she held a secret that would end her at William McKinley High School. She felt weak because she wasn't strong enough to be proud of being "Lebanese". She wasn't strong enough for Brittany and therefore didn't deserve her love. Santana felt like she didn't deserve anyone's love, so she replaced the need for love with lust instead.

Santana found a few one-night stands over the summer to fill the void. They were mostly blondes to help ease the pain and the slight guilt Santana felt because the person she was kissing, holding and caressing wasn't Brittany. Santana made sure to not touch any of the blonde girls the way she touched Brittany, though. What she did with Brittany was more than sex. It was always love; they always made love together and to each other. Santana didn't allow herself to do that with anyone else, but her.

Santana was good at sex; it was easy to please and fun to tease. The chase was always exciting and when it was over and done with, she didn't have to face the aftermath of complicated emotions, like how Brittany had forced her. She always left; never lingered to cuddle or to talk. Sometimes she didn't even say goodbye. Her walls were always up and she was always masking her true emotions. It was in her nature and it was who she was.

One night stands were always a one-time thing with whoever the opposite person was. Santana never retrieved numbers, barely got last names, and never made promises of seeing any girl again. However, there was an exception to one blonde girl that wasn't Brittany; one one-night stand that became several-night stands over the summer. One girl Santana seemed to take a liking to, but never let it get past strictly physical acts when their limbs became entangled with one another.

The first night was based off of pride. She was challenged. This blonde always challenged her; competed with her for everything. It was a drunk night at a party in Rachel's basement with the glee kids. Santana was given a challenge and by _her,_ of all people. Who was Santana to back down? Santana never backed down from a challenge; especially a challenge that came from _her._

* * *

Rachel Berry was throwing a summer party as an apology for the painful loss the New Directions had suffered because her and Finn decided to suck off each other's faces on stage during Nationals. Instead of everyone having to peer pressure her into letting them drink more than two wine coolers, Rachel really went all out on this party (well, with the help of Santana and Puck anyway), having nearly every type of liquor present at the bar. The music was blaring in the basement and everyone just finished playing King's Cup. Mike, was the victim of the game and was finishing up the red solo cup of everyone's drinks in it.

"What should we play next?" Rachel screamed, her speech a little slurred by the taste of vodka.

"Truth or dare!" Kurt sang. He was bored, sober and wanted some entertainment.

"Yea!" Rachel drunkly agreed.

Rachel gathered and signaled everyone to sit in a circle and lowered down the music down a little.

"Okay, Mike, you get to ask first since you lost at King's Cup," Rachel hummed giddily.

"Uh, okay," Mike replied unsure, looking at the circle of his friends, indecisively thinking of who to choose first, "Puck, truth or dare."

"Dare me, brotha," Puck replied cockily.

"I dare you to drink the rest of my King's Cup," Mike said with a smile on his face.

Laughter filled the room at Mike's cleverness and Puck's mistake. He groaned and grabbed the cup and chugged it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed his musical team members. "Santana," he pointed out, "Truth or dare," he smirked.

Santana rolled her eyes, with a drink in her hand, "Dare, and I swear if it has anything to do with making out with you, you're going to die Puckerman," she sneered.

Puck shrugged carelessly, "I dare you to," he paused for a moment, feeling like causing a little trouble and controversy (as usual), "make out with Quinn."

Santana raised an eyebrow and then looked at Quinn who's eyes were set pretty wide in shock and who was turning a shade of red under her cheeks, "I'm not one to mouth-rape anyone, even if they are pretty drunk, so I'm not going to make out with Quinn because Ms. Christian-Crusader over there seems too overwhelmed by even just the thought of my lady lips on hers," she scoffed easily. She took a sip of her drink, "Next, Puckerman."

Puck took a quick glance at Quinn and did notice her seemingly discomfort at the dare, "My apologies Ms. Fabray," Puck took a scan of the group again, "Alright, then Santana, make out with Berry."

Santana teeth clenched and she gripped onto her cup a little too tight, making it slightly create a crushing noise. She eyed the drunk girl and Rachel didn't seem fazed by the dare at all. Actually, she seemed pretty excited about it.

"Yea!" Rachel once again screamed.

Santana gave Puck a deadpan look and all he did was laugh as he high-fived Artie. Santana stood up and took a couple steps towards Rachel, "Alright, Berry, this is only going to happen once in your lifetime, so enjoy it while you can."

"Tell me if I taste like berries!" Rachel giggled.

Santana rolled her eyes, but couldn't help, but smile at the drunk girl and her really drunk remarks. Quickly, she stole a glance towards Brittany who didn't even seem interested in her dare. She was sitting on Artie's lap and playing with his hair, whispering something into his ear. Anger quickly filled Santana, but before she could let it fester and be furious and feel crushed for the rest of the night, someone's lips crashed with hers and she was taken by surprise.

Santana quickly realized that it was Rachel's slobbery lips that were pretty much molesting hers because Santana could taste the vodka on and inside of Rachel's mouth; Santana could've sworn the kiss caused her to be drunker for the rest of the night. Santana could feel everyone's eyes burning her skin with their attention, so Santana needed to put on a show, especially if Brittany was watching. She grabbed the short brunette by the waist and pulled her in closer, letting Rachel react by putting her arms around Santana's neck; Santana was now in charge of the kiss and it went from sloppy to sensual in milliseconds. Their lips danced together and their tongues met for a little while, but went back into their respective corners quickly. Santana pulled away from the kiss first and everyone, including Brittany, were entranced at the sight of the two brunettes so wrapped up in each other's mouths.

"You missed out Fabray," she winked at Quinn as she sat back down on her seat. Santana smirked, knowing that Brittany's eyes were watching her now. She took another sip of her drink confidently and sat down in her seat.

Everyone's eyes, including Brittany's moved away from Santana's direction as soon as she shot a dare to Finn to attempt to do the splits. All eyes (and laughter) were directed towards Finn, and yet, Santana could feel someone's gaze burning her skin. She averted her eyes away from the hilarious and embarrassing scene and scanned the room quickly, until her eyes met green ones. Their gaze was frozen for a few moments, their eyes locked, never breaking away from it. Santana couldn't look away for some reason; there was something in those green eyes, a message of some sort that Santana wanted to translate. But the stare-down ended as quickly as it began and was interrupted by the resounding noise of pants ripping. Santana painfully tore her eyes away from Quinn and gave her attention to where everyone else's was: a very red Finn Hudson, who was stuck in the split-position and torn pants, exposing his red and white heart boxers. The room filled with laughter. When Santana was over the moment, she turned her eyes back to where Quinn was sitting across the room, but she was gone.

Santana slipped away from the drunk group and headed up the stairs where the green-eyed blonde must have escaped to. She walked up to the kitchen and found Quinn sitting on top of the kitchen island, swinging her feet and staring down at the liquid in her red cup. Santana approached her, clearing her throat to make her presence known. Quinn quickly averted her attention towards Santana as Santana made her way to the island she was sitting on.

"What are you doing up here all by your lonesome, Tubbers?" Santana scoffed before taking another sip of vodka that slightly burned her throat again.

Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's insult, "You know that name lost it's affect when I lost all of my pregnancy weight."

"Who says your pregnancy _fat_ ever went anywhere?" Santana sneered.

Again, Quinn rolled her eyes, "Whatever, at least Brittany doesn't have me on a short leash," Quinn scoffed, knowing Santana's soft spot.

_"Ouch that stung a little_," Santana secretly thought. "Fuck you, Teen Mom," Santana said out loud.

"I'm sure you would love to, but I know you're too chicken." Quinn's feet were still dangling, but she was no longer holding her cup full of alcohol, exuding her confidence all on her own. Her palms were set against the cold counter and she was leaned back a little, her body language telling Santana _I don't give a fuck_.

Santana gave her a scrutinized look, "Okay, one, you're not a MILF, so don't flatter yourself, and two, Santana Lopez is not a chicken. I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent," she emphasized angrily, "I'm not scared of anything."

A smile slowly curled onto Quinn's lips with as she leaned in towards Santana. She put her hand on Santana's shoulder as she moved closer to the Latina's body that was already warm from the alcohol she had been drinking, "Prove it," she whispered seductively, her breath tickling Santana's ear.

Santana's fine hairs on the back of her neck perked up, as did a curious eye brow. She gave Quinn a quizzical look, questioning the blonde's sudden boldness. With the alcohol beginning to course its way through her blood, circulating through her body, Santana could feel her core heating up with a rush of desire. She moved closer towards Quinn, locking a gaze between their eyes, their noses nearly grazing. Santana broke their staring contest and moved her interest to Quinn's painted red lips.

_"They look so soft,"_ Santana thought to herself, as she licked her own full lips unconsciously.

"Be careful Fabray," Santana broke the short silence, "If you kiss a girl, you might like it and Daddy won't," Santana smiled wickedly.

A playful smile formed on Quinn's face as she pulled in a little closer towards Santana's face. Their lips were pretty much touching and when Quinn realized that there was a bit of hesitancy in Santana, her smile turned into a smirk, "Chicken shit." With that, she pushed Santana away with one finger, hopped off of the counter and grabbed her red solo cup. She sauntered away, leaving a dazed Santana behind as she began to make her way up the stairs.

Santana was flustered, confused, but aroused at the same time. She stood there wide-eyed, the alcohol beginning to make her skin hot, or perhaps that was Quinn's fault. She stood there, looking and feeling dumb.

"Are you coming?"

Santana was snapped out of her stillness once she heard Quinn from the top of the stairs , though she couldn't see her. At first her feet felt like heavy rocks, weighing her in her spot, but something moved her. Perhaps it was the pounding in her heart that Quinn had caused, perhaps it was the unsettling feeling her stomach she felt when she was that close to Quinn, or perhaps it was the fact that Quinn called her chicken shit. Whatever it was, it was enough to get Santana's feet moving up those stairs, following Quinn into an empty guest room, and locking the door behind them.

Santana was the first to pounce. As soon as she clicked the lock on the door, her lips quickly latched onto Quinn's and Santana found herself exploring the blonde's mouth with a little more passion than intended. The kiss was a little sloppy considering they were both pretty drunk and there was a lot of fervor behind it. Santana began to tug off her white leather jacket while pulling away from the kiss.

"I thought you weren't really into this 'sort of thing', Fabray," Santana smirked, avoiding eye-contact, knowing how an intended one night stand should be, peeling off the rest of her outfit consisting of jeans and tight black tank top.

"Just shut up, and take your clothes off," Quinn fired back as she stripped herself of her cardigan and dress rather quickly as well.

Once both of them were in their underwear, sort of awkwardly, Santana gladly attached their lips to ease the tension. Her hands roamed Quinn's skin, getting familiar with new territory as she led both of them to the bed. Quinn's back hit the bed first with Santana on top of her, the uncoordinated fall causing Santana to bite Quinn's bottom lip. Quinn made a noise between a moan and a squeal that entertained Santana.

"_Quinn likes biting, who would've thought she liked it a little rough_" Santana thought to herself as she began to trail kisses, latching her lips onto Quinn's skin, and sucking and slightly biting into her flesh right above the collar bone. Santana felt Quinn writhe under her, Quinn's short nails scratching at Santana's skin, her breathe coming in short spasms and moans escaping her throat.

"Stop smirking, Lopez," Quinn managed to breathe out, while enjoying being dominated by the Latina.

Santana giggled against Quinn's soft pale skin, taking both of Quinn's wrist and pinning it against her head. She pulled up, straddling Quinn after leaving a trail of red hot marks on Quinn's neck, "How could I not enjoy this? Look who's on top and who's on the bottom of the pyramid now, Fabray," she rolled her hips, causing hot friction where it needed to be for both girls and Quinn couldn't help inhale sharply at the irresistible contact.

"Bitch," Quinn moaned as she slammed her head back down on the pillow.

"You're going to feel my smirk all over your body tonight."

* * *

Santana and Quinn vanished that night for about an hour and a half. Nobody seemed to notice their absence, or the marks of lust and bite marks they left on each other's flesh. But after that night, Santana seemed to take a liking to their sleepovers that now turned into more than just sharing the same bed. Sex with Quinn was different from anyone she's ever had sex with - and though it wasn't like the explosive passion she held for Brittany when they made love, sex with Quinn was pretty damn close with the fireworks they made themselves. It was always fiery, desperate with want, and a lot of the time angry, which made it even better. Santana was always pushing, while Quinn was always pulling - it was an odd chemistry that worked and it worked even better for Santana because for whatever reason (perhaps because Quinn and Santana always shared the cold HBIC mentality) Quinn never wanted an explanation to what was going on, not like Brittany. Quinn never asked for anything Santana couldn't handle - only acted upon carnal instinct when it came calling. Quinn was easy and simple. Quinn never asked to cuddle after sex, never asked Santana to stay and spend the night (though the Latina did on more than one occasion only of course followed by morning sex the day after) and never asked Santana to explain what she couldn't. Though they were always tug-of-war type of friends, Quinn never pushed the boundaries to what Santana never wanted to discuss.

Santana didn't have to explain anything to her - didn't have to think about the future or titles or labels. She didn't have to risk anything with Quinn and Santana found a comfort in that while fighting the storm of feelings and hurt she held for Brittany. Santana was licking her wounds like a poor dog and all summer she was trying to figure out how to win Brittany back - how to convince her that she was worth more than the geek on wheels.

Then one day, on the first week of school, Santana walks passed a poster with Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry on it (with a drawn on sharpie mustache probably done by one of the jocks that made her really resemble a Middle Eastern dictator. She halts and takes two steps back.

_A vote for stars is a vote for the class of 2011 to shine bright! Rachel Berry 4 Class President & Kurt Hummel for Vice President!_

And then the gears in Santana's mind began to turn and an idea clicked. Why hadn't she thought of it before? She was the most popular girl in school, that is next to Quinn anyway - she already ruled this school with an iron fist. Students still feared, respected, envied and wanted to be her. Of course who wouldn't want to be her? She's Santana freaking Lopez, the baddest bitch this side of the tracks. And the only people who would be running against her was Manhands Berry with Lady Hummel, and that ginger jock with the weird 80's mullet with some other mentally challenged jock. The only real competition was Quinn and if she could get Quinn to run with her, there would be no doubt that they would win. And winning class president would show Brittany that Santana was worth so much more than wheelchair boy, though he gave her rides to all her classes.

Speaking of Quinn, Santana furrows her forehead with concern because it's the third day of school and she still hasn't seen the blonde since their rendezvous about a week ago. She hasn't seen her in any of her classes, Glee or even Cheerios practice. Neither has Santana gotten any sexts or invites to come over which are usually pretty frequent if Quinn knows Santana is free - and Quinn knows Santana's schedule fairly well. Santana whips out her phone quickly, knowing how she would get the blonde to agree to run with her.

_-Hey Fabgay, where ya been?_

Santana walks to Glee club waiting for a response. By the time she sits down she feels her phone vibrate.

_-Getting a makeover.  
_  
Santana smirks as she's curious to what other changes the blonde could've possibly made with her new short hair - which was Santana's favorite thing to pull during sex.

_-Naughty church girl look?_

_-Not quite._

Santana raises an eyebrow still busy on her phone, completely ignoring Mr. Schue's enthusiastic speech about being winners this year.

_-Send me a pic._

And as quickly as Santana sends her last text message, Quinn replies so fast it's as if she was anticipating that message - as if she sent it before Santana even asked. And Santana nearly falls off of her chair before she can even enlarge the picture. She's gaping at her phone, eyes bulged out and mouth hanging wide open, choking on air. She's gripping the side of her chair with her free hand, so she won't fall on her face. She's staring at a whole new Quinn.

Pink, short hair. Dark, edgy black make up. Red lipstick. A black muscle t-shirt with a leather jacket to match. And a freaking _nose ring_.

Sure, Santana's panties immediately flood with her wetness because Quinn looks hot as ever. Santana actually licks her lips unconsciously imagining the things she'd do to this new Quinn and now she's curious if she has a tongue ring and her heart begins to palpitate even harder in her chest. But it's not Quinn's new hot look making her panic with stress - actually it is. _This_ is not good for their reputations as candidates for presidency. They could actually possibly lose to the little Dwarf and Porcelain if anyone finds out about this.

"Santana, is there something you'd like to share with us that seems to be so intriguing on your phone?" Mr. Schue busts Santana out, making all of the Glee club stare at her ogle at the picture of Quinn that has to stay secret.

Santana stares wide eyed at Mr. Schue and out of natural instinct, "Uh, my Abuela is having a heart attack! I have to gay - I mean go, go... I have to go!" And with that she hopped out of her chair and ran out of the room without giving anyone a chance to ask any questions.

Santana is power-walking, nearly running down the hall with her gym bag slung over her shoulder and she's texting furiously.

_-Meet me in my place in 15 minutes and I swear to God if you are late, you are going to regret it ;)_

Santana adds a winky face for emphasis because she knows Quinn will have a shit-eating grin when she reads it. All of Santana's sexual partners know that a winky face means in fact that they are going to have sex. And in Santana's haste to get to her car, a wheelchair runs over the foot as it exits out of a dark classroom.

"MOTHER FUUUC-" before Santana can finish her cursing and her lashing out at who she is sure to be the handicap she hates, she hears a voice that makes her stop.

"Santana?"

Santana looks up (well barely), still standing on one foot as she holds the other one in pain. She sees Brittany on Artie's lap, her arms around her neck and out of habit Santana rolls her eyes and she feels a rage burn inside of her at the view.

"Shouldn't you be in Glee club?" Brittany asks quietly.

Santana wanting to chew Artie out doesn't have the heart to do it in front of Brittany, so she bites the side of her cheek to prevent herself from using a string of profanity. But she notices something - Brittany's ponytail just a little out of alignment and Santana's knows for a fact that means they were fooling around right before exiting the room and disgusts and anger fills her body.

"I have to go, Britt. Gonna get my lady kisses on with some hot skank," Santana doesn't mean to sound spiteful, but it comes out natural that way and she can see a hint of hurt in those blue eyes that she loves so much, but she's too mad to take anything back now, especially with her foot throbbing, her panties soaked and jealousy rearing its evil green head. She walks away from the awkward scene, leaving Brittany sad and Artie confused.

As Santana's feet hit the gravel to her car, she has a little more pep in her step. She's angry, and when she's angry she craves sex even more - it cushions the hurt a little for Santana. It eases her mind and is an easy distraction from what she's actually feeling. She pulls out her phone again and texts Quinn hurriedly.

-_You better be ready for the fuck of your life, Barbie. When I'm done with you, you're going to need a fucking wheelchair ;) ;) ;)_


	2. Smoking Hot

**A/N**: Sorry for the unannounced hiatus again. I swear I have been writing everyday - slowly. No worries, updates will come soon for both Fix A Heart and YMH&YMH as well. Thank you so much for the response on this story - truly was not expecting the sudden support, but I appreciate it so much! Sorry if this chapter doesn't live up to everyone's expectations... Some fluff and mostly smut. Enjoy! R&R

* * *

Santana pulled up to her driveway, immediately spotting a pink head on the stoop of her house, smoking a cigarette. She hopped out of her car rather quickly, and didn't even bother to grab her gym bag. Instead, she clicked a button on her keys that made her car beep twice and power walked towards the former blonde, immediately snatching the cigarette from her lips and throwing onto the cement and stomping on it furiously as she ground her foot onto the ground for emphasis.

Quinn stood up infuriated and stepped down from the stoop, "What the hell, Santa-"

But her angry words were interrupted by full lips crashing into hers hungrily and angrily. Santana pulled away, but still held the back of Quinn's neck, their bodies still flush against each other.

"You taste like a fucking ashtray and that's unacceptable."

Quinn gritted her teeth in frustration and rolled her eyes, "You'll learn to like it," and without warning, Quinn gained power and pushed Santana's back against her garage door, her hands on her waist as she pulled in closer for a kiss full of fervor. Quinn's tongue peeked out, seeking access into Santana's mouth and Santana let out a little moan before she gladly entangled her tongue with Quinn's.

"Shit," Santana gasped as she pushed Quinn away from her lips, "Damn it Fabray, in broad daylight in my neighborhood," she shoved Quinn off of her as she dusted off her Cheerios uniform, as if it would erase anyone's memory who might've seen. She walked away from Quinn towards her front door, knowing Quinn would follow.

"You started it," Quinn husked into Santana's ear from behind, putting her hand in between Santana's legs as Santana tried to unlock her front door.

"Quinn!" Santana turned around and swatted Quinn's hand away at the same time.

"Someone's a little damp for me," Quinn smirked as she held up two fingers to her lips and kissed them innocently.

"Fuck you," Santana replied flatly as she turned her back away from Quinn again and finally opened the door.

"Please do," Quinn growled as she rushed Santana inside, grabbed her by the waist and began kissing her furiously all over again, while kicking the door closed.

Santana responded quickly, wrapping her arms around Quinn's neck, kissing back with an intensity she only knew with Quinn. In no time at all, Quinn grabbed Santana by the back of her thighs, making Santana hop onto her and wrap her legs around Quinn as she led them both to Santana's room. It was routine dance that both girls knew by now - sometimes the positions were swapped or the homes would be - but they knew this choreography better than any dance number in Glee club or even any Cheerios routine.

Quinn quickly found Santana's bed as she slammed her down, their kiss still fully intact, not even breaking away for a breathe of air. Before Santana knew it, Quinn was pulling off her t-shirt and pulling it over her head, breaking the kiss. Santana laid wide eyed, absent-mindedly scratching at Quinn's now bare abs, tracing her nails lower to the button of Quinn's tight black leather pants. Santana wasted no time and immediately unbuttoned the pants without asking and undid the zipper to find a surprise for her - no underwear. Santana smirked at the nothingness there.

"All too eager, I see," Santana bit her lip as she slowly traced a finger on the bare, seemingly newly shaven skin.

Quinn rolled her eyes as she quickly discarded the pants, only clad in her black laced bra now, but straddling Santana again, "It's hard to put those pants on with underwear, don't flatter yourself."

Quinn quickly dove down to lavish Santana's neck when suddenly their positions changed. Santana flipped them over, but she was still between Quinn's legs, which was now bare for Santana to see the pure wetness that was present.

"Quinn!" Santana scolded, "Now I have to take my fucking uniform to the cleaners tonight," noticing the wet spot the now pink-headed girl had left on her skirt.

Quinn held a wicked smile, biting her bottom lip at Santana's fury, "Oh please, Lopez, don't be such a baby. Your aunts at the cleaners will have your uniform clean in no time."

Santana cursed in Spanish, something Quinn couldn't even comprehend and in more confusion, she found the pissed off Latina ripping her black laced bra right down the middle. Quinn's eyes widened in shock and in fury.

"SANTANA, YOU FUCKING BI -" her yelling was muffled by Santana's full lips, hungry for the angry skank under her, but this is where the push and pull usually started. Quinn began to squirm and tried to push Santana off and scream at her for ripping her fifty dollar Victoria Secret bra, but all was heard were muffled sounds, "San-mmm-I'mgonna-mmm-stooo-mmm," as Santana skillfully slipped her ripped bra off and threw it in some random direction.

And Quinn was defenseless as Santana was now on top, holding Quinn's wrists in a vice grip against the bed over her head. Once Santana felt Quinn melt away into the sultry, wet, hot kiss, Santana released one of Quinn's wrists to run her fingers down Quinn's bare chest, feeling the girl under her shiver. She smirked as she realized the power her touch still had over Quinn, despite the many times they had done this.

With her now free hand, Quinn pushed Santana off by her chest breaking the breathless kiss, "Stop smirking," Quinn held a playful glare, "Clothes off."

There was a carnal look in Santana's eyes and Quinn knew this look all too well. She was definitely going to need a wheelchair after this. Santana crawled off of Quinn, standing in front of the bed, stripping off her Cheerios uniform and then her spanks and bra and then she let her long luscious raven black hair down, cascading over her body. Quinn laid on the bed, licking her lips as she admired the tan body before her, waiting to be topped, but Santana just stood there, staring at her nails, seemingly all of a sudden uninterested.

Quinn looked at her, aggravated, "If you don't want to fuck, why'd you break my fucking bra," Quinn rested on the back of her elbows, glaring at Santana - not so playfully this time.

"Oh please," Santana sneered, "you don't need a bra for those mosquito bites."

"Fine, fuck you and your fake tits. I'm out of here."

As Quinn tried to get up all the way, she felt a pointed finger push her back down on the bed and quickly felt Santana's naked, hot body cover hers.

"Yea, that's right, you're going to fuck me and my fake tits," Santana straddled the angry girl and wrapped her mouth around hers, making the girl squirm again. But Santana liked it like this - the friction was a lot better for the both of them this way as Santana thrusted and their centers collided, creating hot, wanted contact.

"Mmmph," the back Quinn's throat betrayed her as she moaned into Santana's mouth, which she now felt smiling slyly against her lips. Quinn struggled against Santana's hot skin and full lips, but the struggle only made her center throb more with want. Quinn's fingers found their way entangled with Santana's hair and yanked at it as their tongues were busy entwining with each other. The yank allowed a moan to escape Santana's mouth and now Quinn was smirking against the kiss. This tug-of-war was always their favorite game to play. It was a weird foreplay that neither of the girls experienced with anyone else.

Santana finally pulled away from the kiss, but placed her attention to the rest of Quinn's body. As she placed hot kisses down her neck she murmured against Quinn's hot, pale skin in between kisses, "I'm going," _kiss kiss, _"to wipe that smile," _kiss kiss, _"off of your face," and at this point, Santana reached Quinn's breasts and stuck her tongue out, dragging a wet trail down to Quinn's already harden nipple. She sucked it with her talented mouth and let her tongue swirl around a couple of times.

"Ugghhnn!" Quinn's loud moans were incoherent as her body thrashed about and her hands tugged harder on Santana's hair.

Santana let go of Quinn's nipple with a pop and moved on to the next. This time, in addition to the sucking and the tongue patterns, Santana added some light biting. At this point, Quinn's breathing patterns were out the window and she was gasping for air while animalistic sounds that neither she or Santana knew she was capable of making came out.

"San, please!" Quinn managed to breathe out.

She was begging - Santana was winning and this was the best part of sleeping with Quinn. The sound of Quinn begging and losing all control made Santana so wet, it was practically dripping down her inner thighs. Santana wasted no time in placing herself between Quinn's legs. Since Quinn's bucking hips and pleading lungs were making her extra hot and bothered, Santana needed to work fast so it could be her turn on her back soon.

Santana wasted no time in attaching her lips to Quinn's wet center and slithering her tongue up and down the entire length of her slit. She swirled her tongue on Quinn's bundle of nerves and applied hard pressure on it to feel Quinn buck more. She held Quinn's hips in place, her red nails scratching at bare flesh, leaving angry red marks - marks of territory.

"Ugghhnn - fuck," Quinn was heaving for air, "Shit shit shit don't stop!"

Quinn's entangled fingers pulled Santana's wild mane wanting the brunette closer to her (if that were possible). She squirmed and thrashed about, losing all control feeling close to her climax. As much as Santana wanted to drag this out more, she could no longer ignore her own throbbing between her legs. She flattened her tongue and applied harder pressure on Quinn's center.

"OH GOD!" Quinn's back was arching as her head dug into the pillow beneath her and her hands clawed harder into Santana's scalp.

Santana smirked at the sound, the movements and the pain she was feeling on her scalp. She dipped her tongue into Quinn's sopping wet entrance and began a quick pace - in and out. She could feel Quinn wrap around her muscle and she knew she was close. Quinn's eyes were rolling to the back of her head now - at this point she was so gone that it looked as if Santana was performing an exorcism on the girl. Santana dipped her tongue inside of her a few more times before entirely pulling out and latching her entire mouth onto Quinn's clit sucking at it, feeling Quinn's entire body go rigid and stayed frozen for about a whole minute, yanking her hardest at Santana's hair.

"FUCK, SANTANA!"

Once Santana felt Quinn's body slowly relax and soften and she felt the reigns on her hair loosen, she let go of Quinn and kissed her inner thighs softly.

Letting go of Santana's hair, Quinn ran her hands through her pink hair as her breathing was still uneven.

"Shit," she breathed out.

Santana was now next to her, kissing her shoulder, moving up to her neck and eventually her ear. Quinn smiled at the contact as her body came down from her high, her body finally relaxing and easing into the bed. She turned to face Santana, interrupting the brunette's nibble on her ear and kissed her softly before the kiss began heating up with tongues clashing and their breathing uneven again. Quinn bit Santana's bottom lip and separated from the kiss, dragging it with the distance between them. She let go and smiled at the brunette.

"Get on my face. Now." Quinn prompted plainly.

It didn't take long for Santana to shuffle and bring her body up and straddle Quinn's face. Quinn licked her lips unconsciously, looking at Santana's readiness for her and hurriedly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down to her wet mouth, meeting Santana's wet hot center. Quinn didn't have to do much to make Santana come undone; the Latina was grinding her face and using the headboard as support to not collapse.

"Oh fuck," Santana whined.

All it took was a few minutes, and with the combination of Quinn's voice vibrating through her walls, and her sucking and licking in all the right places, Santana was losing it, hovering over Quinn, clutching onto the bed's headboard for dear life. She threw her head back, her body went rigid, and she clawed at the wood, chipping some of it off of the headboard.

"Shit," Santana panted, finally getting air into her lungs.

Once her body and nerves calmed down, Santana laid her body on top of Quinn's again, kissing her, tasting herself on Quinn's lips and tongue. She smiled into the kiss and this time it wasn't a smirk because she was on top. It was a genuine smile because she was enjoying their flesh against flesh, and their lips against lips. Santana enjoys kissing Quinn. It's even possibly the truth that Santana actually loves having sex with Quinn. It's rough, passionate, messy and hot. It's so many things balled into one that it always makes her forget about Brittany - forget about the pain she's holding, the secrets she's hiding, and the person she's not ready to be yet.

Soon (of course) Santana gets tired of kissing. She wants more contact, more power - she wants Quinn in a wheelchair. So she separates herself from Quinn and Quinn gripes at the loss of contact. But in no time, Santana has Quinn on all fours and she's actually enjoying it, excited to feel how Santana is going to make her body crumble into pieces this time. She whimpers as Santana licks her through her folds and fondles her with her tongue, exploring her as if she's never done it before.

Santana could make this quick, knowing all of Quinn's hotspots, but she wants Quinn screaming, her body shivering and her toes curling. After delving her tongue into Quinn's pink hot core, she sticks two fingers into her mouth, then tracing them from Quinn's clit, circling there at first and then dragging them into her center. Quinn squeals with pleasure, burying her face into the sheets. Santana is now behind Quinn, thrusting with each time she moves her fingers in and out of Quinn.

"Oh God," Quinn's cries are muffled, screaming into the bed.

Santana, still thrusting and moving in and out of Quinn, pulls her by the hair, letting the pink-headed skank breathe, "I want to hear you when you scream my name," Santana husks.

Santana leans down and bites down hard at the flesh on Quinn's shoulder, while speeding up her fingers, feeling the excess amount of wetness Quinn is producing.

"Oh my - shit, San!" Quinn gulps, gasping for air, her body arching and backing up into Santana.

Santana knows Quinn is close, she can feel her walls react to the friction she's causing inside of Quinn. She uses her free hand to grip onto Quinn's shoulder, adds a third finger and begins to hammer into Quinn even faster. The sounds of their wet bodies slapping against each other and their lungs searching for air echoes in Santana's room.

Quinn's eyes are shut tight and all of a sudden she's feeling a sensory overload. A chilling heat washes over her body. It starts in her face at first, and then slides down her spine as it dances in her ribs, creating a butterfly effect in her stomach, shooting down her legs and her toes curling as she grits her teeth and screams through them.

"YES, SANTANA, GOD!"

One last thrust against the back of her hand, Santana soon follows tumbling into her orgasm as well, her body stiffening up and their bodies frozen in that position for a few seconds, feeling like endless moments.

As Quinn came down from her high, Santana planted well placed kisses down her spine before pulling her skilled fingers out of her and collapsing onto her back. Once Quinn's sporadic breathing slowed down, Quinn collapsed on her back next to Santana as well. They both stared up at the blank white ceiling, while only the noise that filled the room were the girls trying to catch their breaths as their bare chests heaved up and down, desperate for oxygen.

"You saw Brittany today? Quinn asked, her breathing still a little unsteady.

"Yep."

"Ponytail askew?"

"Yep."

"Sitting on Artie's lap?

"Yep."

"Got it."

And there it was - the simplicity part of their... relationship. No complications, no need to explain things. Quinn accepted things as they were - Quinn understood. And after having these rendezvous on more than 20 occasions now, Quinn knew Santana to be more aggressive in bed when fueled by the green monster in her for Brittany.

"Santana?" Quinn broke the short comfortable silence.

"Yea?" Santana was still trying to catch up with her lungs.

"I can't move."

And after a split second, laughter from both girls echoed through the empty house.

"Quinn?"

"Yea?"

"Run as my vice-president?"

Quinn scoffed, "Why would I be your vice-president?"

"No more mind blowing sex," Santana threatened.

"Don't flatter yourself," Quinn could only give a sideways glare with her eyes because she couldn't move her neck.

"You just said you couldn't move," Santana replied plainly.

"Touchè."

"So, be my vice?"

"Is this for Brittany?"

"No," Santana responded sheepishly.

"Whipped," Quinn teased.

"Fuck you."

"Already did."

"So is that a yes?" Santana sounded hopeful.

Quinn sighed, "Fine, whatever."

* * *

Santana went out to run a few errands, leaving a very tired and naked Quinn in her bed. When she came back after a few hours, she was shocked to still find the former blonde still stark naked in her bed, passed out. If it was anyone else, Santana would've given him/her a rude awakening and would've kicked them out with the intent of never seeing that person ever again. But this was Quinn - her best frenemy, her Cheerios co-captain, fellow (ashamed to admit it) gleek, soon to be vice president, the only person who calls her out on her bullshit and the only person to dare challenge her - and of course providing the best sex Santana has ever had is an added bonus.

Santana let out a soft sigh as she contemplated on why in the world of all people she allowed Quinn Fabray, who constantly got under her skin, to stay under her sheets. But feelings were never Santana's forte so she does what she always does and places any concerns she has about feelings to the back of her head.

Instead, she reacts on her instinct and crawls on her bed, still in her skin hugging jeans and black tank top. She finds Quinn sleeping on her stomach, the sheets and comforter only wrapped around the bottom half of her body, leaving her entire back exposed. Quinn is a stomach sleeper - always has been. Santana straddles Quinn's tight, round (not to mention: naked) ass and feels the girl under her stir in her sleep a little. A small smile forms on Santana's lips as she begins to rub Quinn's bare back and the girl squirms a little more, making noises in her sleep. Santana begins to massage Quinn's shoulder blades, which seem to be extra tense and as she kneads through the tense muscle, she feels Quinn melt under her.

"Mmm," Quinn hums in her sleep.

Santana takes this as a green light and begins to kiss Quinn's soft milky skin on her back. She gets to Quinn's neck and nibbles on her skin occasionally, mixed in with kisses.

Quinn giggles lightly, but Santana notices her eyes are still closed, "Puck," Quinn is smiling in her sleep.

"Ew, Puck?" Santana thinks silently to herself, but still continues to kiss Quinn's soft exposed skin, "As if ferret head could make you moan the way I do," Santana began kissing Quinn's shoulder and bit down on the flesh a little hard (knowing how Quinn likes it) followed by a soft sucking, probably leaving a bruise. Quinn moaned at the contact, and Santana smirked, "Stupid fucking boys," she added as an afterthought.

"Puck," Quinn dreamily breathes.

Santana rolled her eyes in response and stops kissing Quinn, but returns her focus on Quinn's back. She begins to alternate from massaging Quinn's back to softly scratching lazy patterns on her skin.

"I wish we could make another baby."

Santana quirked an eyebrow and stared at Quinn's sleeping face questionably.

"Or get Beth back," Quinn shifts a little on the bed, "I miss Beth."

Santana frowns and for a moment is sad for Quinn. All of junior year Quinn acted like none of it ever happened - like Beth was never real. And she was lonely because of it - always seeking love in the wrong places to replace the longing she had to feel whole again. Puck, Sam and Finn. All dead ends. And so what did Quinn do? Well, because she wasn't so "into that" the first time around she got a haircut. Then she got into it - well more like into Santana and still she felt a need for a new identity. Quinn still didn't feel whole - still needed a void to fill with love. Santana crawled off of Quinn, with an idea in her head and went downstairs to her laptop to see if she could make any connections or arrangements - gears spinning in her mind.

* * *

Quinn woke up feeling rather sore as she stretched and yawned in a surprisingly empty bed. She looked around the moonlit room, but no Santana. She sighed and stretched some more, her back feeling a little loose and relaxed for some reason. She quickly had a hot shower in Santana's bathroom and unashamedly went through her drawers to borrow some Victoria Secret boy shorts and a large t-shirt. It was sort of becoming a routine now to spend the night unexpectedly without having to be asked - both girls just held a certain comfort with each other. Besides, it's not like Santana would be shy to kick Quinn out if she really wanted to.

Quinn made her way downstairs with a cigarette in her ear and found a sleeping Latina curled up on the couch with her laptop in front of her. She smiled at the girl at peace and quietly snuck out the front door to smoke. As Quinn took silent puffs, she found herself at peace, letting the nicotine and tobacco soothe her nerves and the chaos always blowing up her mind. She sighed, thinking about Santana and how she had a war bombing her brain too. They were both fucked up and maybe that's why they enjoyed fucking each other so much. Quinn stopped trying to understand it or define what she was - what they were together and was grateful that Santana had the same habits. Once she finished her cigarette, she put it out and flicked somewhere onto the front yard. Quinn made her way back into the house, quietly shutting the door behind her. She slowly tip-toed to Santana, closed her laptop put it on the coffee table and replaced it, sitting next to Santana's sleeping body. She ran her fingers through her soft dark hair, causing the other girl to stir a little bit. Quinn kissed temple and held their proximity.

"Wake up sleepy-head," Quinn kissed her temple again.

"You smell like an ashtray!" Santana whined sleepily.

Quinn rolled her eyes and sat up, waiting for the brunette to wake up and be a little less cranky.

Santana finally opened her eyes, "I hate it when you smoke."

"I only just started."

"I hate it," Santana replied pointedly.

"Tough shit."

Santana rolled her eyes. She had a plan and she knew she would get her virginal as ever old Quinn back. She sat up and made it so she was sitting behind Quinn, with Quinn between her legs. Santana rested her chin on Quinn's shoulder as she wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist.

"I have a surprise for you, vice-president."

Quinn smirked and turned her head to graze their noses, "Does it vibrate?"

"Pervert."

"Says the one cupping my right boob."

Santana smiled and gave her a light peck on the lips, "Oops."

Quinn looked at her questioningly, "What's my surprise?"

"It's coming on Monday," Santana smiled, "and you have to come to school to see it."

Quinn rolled her eyes, "Do I have to be in class to see it?"

"Yes."

"I don't want my surprise."

"Quinn! You can't run for class vice-president if you never come to class," Santana complained.

"Fine," Quinn conceded.

"Get rid of the nose ring before then too," Santana added.

"No!"

"Fine, dye your hair back to blonde. I bought the peroxide earlier," Santana tried to bargain.

"No, Santana! I already agreed to run for this stupid campaign, there were no requests to change myself physically."

"Quinn, no one is going to vote for you, looking how you look now."

"You would."

Santana rolled her eyes and thought about it, "That's not the point."

Quinn smirked triumphantly, "I'm not changing a thing. That wasn't in the deal."

"You could've at least gotten a tongue ring instead. At least we could've made use of that."

"So if I traded my nose piercing for a tongue piercing would that make you happier?" Quinn purred, kissing Santana's neck, brushing her tongue along the tan skin.

Santana's breath hitched and moaned a little, "No! No tongue piercing," snapping back to her thoughts.

Quinn pulled away and got up, "Fine, suit yourself," she shrugged, "Can we order Chinese?" Quinn asked as she made her way to the kitchen, "I'm starved."

Santana sighed at the change of subject, "Yea, I think my parents will be out late again."

"Don't forget my potstickers!" Quinn yelled out browsing the fridge for some sort of snack.

Santana rolled her eyes as she picked up her phone, "Wouldn't dream of it," she replied sarcastically.

Before unlocking her phone, Santana noticed she had an unread email. She quickly swiped her phone and opened the message. She smiled as she read it, knowing that the blonde Quinn she wanted back for their campaign would make an appearance soon, meaning she was one step closer to getting Brittany back.


End file.
